


The Outcast, The Pupil, and The Hunter

by LadyLuck1881



Series: Hester, a Swordslingers Tale [1]
Category: Kenshi (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gore, Graphic Violence, Injury, Loss of Limbs, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slavery, slave catching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLuck1881/pseuds/LadyLuck1881
Summary: Hester is a recently escaped slave from Rebirth, she's put to work as an indentured servant in The Hub when one day she meets an old Skeleton who offers to train her in the ways of the swordslinger.
Series: Hester, a Swordslingers Tale [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911931
Kudos: 6





	1. Shatter

Slink lurched into the bar, her left arm dangling limply from its socket. Most of the patrons didn’t even look up from their grog. She had dragged herself out of Rebirth two nights prior, and dragged her body South to the Hub where she was told a friend was waiting. There were no friends here, only people with dark eyes and grim faces. Some had brands like she had on their necks, escaped slaves from the Holy Nation, but not even they looked at her for more than a moment. Slink was alone, yes, but she was free. Mustering what strength she had left, she walked to the Barman, who had his eyes on her from the moment she walked in.

“Welcome, sister, does Okran drink spiced wine?” asked the Barman, his eyes on the brand on her neck that marked her a slave.

“Onl-- Only on p-prayer day,” Slink managed to stammer out, the Barman took her eyes off her brand and his face softened. He nodded to a massive Shek that Slink had failed to notice, and she spoke in a voice like distant thunder.

“Come, sister, you’re safe now. Can you walk any further?” asked the Shek woman, and Slink shook her head before her world went black.

\--

When Slink finally came to, she had to ensure that she wasn’t dreaming. She was in a clean, warm bed in a room with electric lights and a ceiling fan, she could feel that her body was no longer caked in grime and dried blood, and her clothes were far softer than anything she was used to. She slowly sat up, and the Shek woman from before laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Hush, sister, be slow,” she said, in a voice as soft and warm as summer sand. “You have slept like the dead for the past three days, do not rise too quickly.” Slink nodded in acknowledgement, and slowly turned so her feet were off the bed and pressed into the cool hardwood floor of the room. “Good, now try and stretch out, your bones and muscles will be stiff and sore,” said the Shek woman, and Slink slowly stretched her back, arching it and feeling the bones crack as they got used to movement again. She raised her arms above her and grabbed her right wrist with her left hand and was surprised at how cool her fingers were, and how metallic they felt--.

Wait.

Slink looked at the Shek woman, her eyes wide, “My arm,” she croaked, her voice dry and craggy from disuse. She stretched her arms out again. The right one felt normal. The left, though. Slink turned her head slowly to look at her left arm, and saw that in its place was a crude facsimile of what an arm looked like, two thin pieces of metal connected with a hinge and ending in a crude three fingered claw. She stared at it in shock, and a rush of emotions flooded her head.

“I am truly sorry, sister, we couldn’t save it,” said the Shek woman, “there is only so much that we could do, the infection was spreading rapidly and if we hadn’t amputated...” the Shek trailed off when she saw Slink’s face harden in intense anger.

“Those bastards ,” hissed the one-armed girl, a vein bulging from her head in anger. She moved to stand but the Shek woman laid a powerful hand on her shoulder and said with a deep rumble of her voice:

“Sit, and be calm, girl.” The one-armed girl struggled against the Shek woman, kicking and punching her with all the strength left in her half-broken body. The Shek did not move and instead placed another hand on the girls shoulders and commanded the girl to look her in the eyes. “Think, girl! What are you going to do with one arm and no strength left to stand? Are you going to fall at Lord Phoenix’s feet and beg him to die? Is that your plan?” The woman's harsh words snapped the one-armed girl back to reality, and her expression turned to sorrow.

“I’m sorry, I-” the one-armed girl began to weep, her body wracked with sobs from deep in the pit of her stomach where all of the anger and pain was kept for the past five years of her life. The Shek woman embraced the one-armed girl, and gently stroked her back. 

“You are strong, sister. you escaped from Rebirth and lived to tell the tale. You are young and the world has been unkind to you. You can let this consume you until you are nothing but an empty shell, wasting away at the memories of a life that hasn’t even been half lived,” said the Shek, still cradling the girl, who looked so small and fragile as she wept. “Or, you can leave the past behind you, and become a new person here as so many have done.” Slink looked up at the Shek woman.

“What do you mean, become a new person?”

“Work, get paid, learn a new skill. You will be treated well here, get food and a safe place to sleep every night, in exchange for your labor.”

“That sounds like being a slave again.”

“You will be paid five cats a week,” said the Shek woman, and the one-armed girl nodded her head slowly. If she saved every cat she earned she could buy a sword and start training, and then she’d kill Lord Phoenix.

“When do I start?”

\--

They never mentioned that the five cats a week was before removing the room, board, and paying off the hunk of metal that could be called an arm if you squinted at it. The Barman said it cost him one thousand cats, but Slink doubted that it cost him half that. It was made out of spare bits of steel pipe and the claw was made of what looked like braided wire, the part that attached to her shoulder was little more than a can of grog stuffed with fabric. Still, one cat a week was better than no cats at all, and after six months of backbreaking, humiliating, and sometimes degrading work she had a grand total of 26 cats to her name. 

As she worked she felt herself growing stronger. She no longer needed to catch her breath after climbing the stairs to the attic where she slept, her ribs didn’t poke through her skin anymore, and there were solid muscles on her right arm and her legs now. Her hair was growing back too: what used to be a roughly shaved bald head was now a small faux-hawk. She also picked up shifts tending the bar when the Barman went out or was sick. That night in particular the barman was away in Shark on business, which seemed to be a codeword for spending all of Slink’s wages on whores and hashish. She was beginning to think that her shift would end without any trouble before a hush fell over the bar, and what passed for legend in the borderlands passed through the threshold.

Their steps were heavy, and their feet clanked on the metal tiles that made up the floor of the bar. They were a Skeleton, one of the ancient robots made before Slink’s great-great grandfather was even conceived. They were tall, and slender, wearing a long black coat with metal plates sewn in and baggy cloth pants, practical, but still finely made. What really drew Slink’s attention were the Skeleton’s blades. Even sheathed she could tell they were of the finest quality. They were swords you would hear about in legends. It suited the Skeleton to be carrying them, as they might as well have been a legend themselves. Slink caught herself staring, and sheepishly looked away when the Skeleton turned to face her, their eyeless gaze burning a hole through her robotic left arm.

“Can I do anything for you, sir--uh...customer?” asked Slink shakily, she had never seen a living Skeleton before, let alone up close.

“It’s madame, and yes, actually you could,” the Skeleton paused for a moment before unfastening her blades. First the one on her back which was longer than Slink’s arm, the second from her hip which was about six inches shorter than the first. “Take these outside and clean them, oil them too,” the Skeleton said, handing the girl a small flask from her bag. “Dip a rag in this and just give the blades a good rubbing, I need to rest.” Slink took the blades, holding them like they were young children. She put the small flask of oil into her pocket and grabbed a clean rag from the bar counter, she nodded to one of her coworkers and stepped outside into the cool desert night and sat down. She slowly unsheathed the shorter of the two blades, placing the scabbard on the ground beside her, and held it with reverence. It was a simple katana, but like the Skeleton’s clothes it was made to the highest degree of quality. The blade had the gentlest curve, and the hamon between the edge and the spine of the katana glimmered in the lamplight. As instructed she dipped the rag into the oil and polished the blade until it shone like polished silver. She sheathed the weapon carefully and picked up the larger sword--it was longer than the katana by several inches, and with a pronounced curve--and she polished that one too. She stood to go back inside, but she felt an itch deep in her gut that beckoned her to wield one of the blades. She instinctively reached for the longer one and unsheathed it, before swinging it roughly at an imagined foe, cutting open his belly. She swung again, this time picturing her target as her old overseer from Rebirth. She severed his hands before cutting off his head. She went for another swing, but faltered, as she felt another presence next to her. She turned her head slowly, and the Skeleton was there.

“Your form is sloppy,” said the Skeleton matter-of-factly, “your feet should be perpendicular, like this.” The Skeleton mimed holding her back foot at a ninety degree angle, her front foot pointed forward, “And your knees should bend just a little, so you have more motion. Try.” Slink adjusted her stance, and the Skeleton corrected it lightly, telling her to move her foot back or forward, to angle her hips and keep the blade in front of her “now strike from this stance,” Slink swung the sword and found it easier than her wild swinging from earlier. “Good, for a beginner, now when you swing you should step towards your target, and your hips should follow your shoulders.” Slink followed her advice, doing as the Skeleton suggested and looking back at her. “Hm, it needs work, clean it again and come inside when you’re finished. We need to speak.” the Skeleton turned on her heel and walked back into the bar. Slink set about cleaning the weapon again, doing it carefully and with a greater respect for the weapon than before.

Slink walked back into the bar and found it empty except for the Skeleton, who beckoned her over. Slink sat across from the Skeleton, and carefully placed the blades on the table. A long silence was held between them before Slink broke it.

“I am sorry, madame, for handling your blades without permission,”

“Don’t apologize for wielding them as they were intended, girl, I am not angry with you.” The Skeleton’s face didn’t change, and Slink cocked her head at her

“I beg your pardon?” 

“I am not angry, although since you wielded my weapons without permission, I feel I have a right to ask you some questions.” said the Skeleton, who had laced her metallic fingers together and rested her chin on them. Slink furrowed her brow and nodded once, sharply, she hated discussing her past. 

“Where were you enslaved, and who was your master.”

“Rebirth, High Overseer Ereck.”

“What were you enslaved for.”

“Being an orphaned girl in Blister Hill on a Prayer Day and not having a copy of the Holy Flame on me,” Slink spat, her teeth clenched.

“Relax your jaw,” chided the Skeleton. “How long were you enslaved and how old are you.”

“Five years, and I’m twenty now.”

“What is your name.”

“Slink.”

“Who is your current master.”

“I am indebted to the owner of this bar, a man named Horace. He said my new arm cost him a thousand cats and he’s withholding my wages.”

“Your new master lied to you, and is taking advantage of your situation. Where is he now?”

“Shark, in the Swamp.”

“Pack what things you have. I will return tomorrow with him, and the three of us will chat.” With that, the Skeleton rose and walked out of the bar, fastening the longer blade to her back and the katana to her hip. Slink was filled with more questions, and as she climbed the ladder to her attic bedroom she thought of what the Skeleton had said. Horace had lied to her, which she knew already--there was no way that her arm had cost any more than 300 cats from a wandering Hiver--but the Shek woman too? Was she a part of the grift? Or was she also taken advantage of by the Barman? All of these thoughts swam in her head forming a vortex of anger and fear that further motivated her to follow the Skeleton's instructions. She packed what she had into a small rag sack and placed it at the foot of her bed. She waited, patiently, for a sleep that would never come.

\-------------------------------------------

Slink had long since abandoned sleep, and was instead sitting cross legged on the floor of her attic room. Her left arm lay disassembled on a piece of cloth and she was meticulously cleaning the motors and powered joints of the limb before reassembling them and hooking the arm over the stump of her left shoulder, and twisting the arm in place. She winced as she felt the hooks in the limb cap connect with her nerve endings, and focused on her breathing while the pain subsided. Her thoughts buzzed with excitement and anxiety about the path her life was going down. Clearly the Skeleton had plans for her, but as to what those plans were Slink could only imagine. Her buzzing thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of a struggle downstairs, and the distinct sound of a man hitting the floor. Slink stood quickly, and grabbed the bag containing everything she had ever owned and ran downstairs to see the Skeleton standing over Horace, her arms crossed and a small dent in her face.

“Is this the one?” asked the Skeleton, gesturing to the quivering man on the floor.

“Yes, that’s him.” Slink said, dropping her bag on a table she moved to stand next to the Skeleton “what do you want to do with him?” Slink was still unsure of the Skeleton's true motives, clearly she had put the fear of God into the man, but was it because of his own prejudice? Or did she threaten him?

“That is up to you, girl, consider this your first test.” Slink looked to the Skeleton in surprise. Test? 

“Test? What do you mean?” asked Slink, looking from Horace to the Skeleton as she spoke. The gears of her mind were turning rapidly with all of the little ways she could hurt Horace, but none of them seemed like the proper treatment of the man who, for all of his flaws, saved her life.

“This man wronged you, lied to you, and kept you indebted to him. How do you respond?” said the Skeleton, and Slink knew immediately what this test was for. It was to judge her reaction to a foe that had disrespected and wronged her, but not in a way that was beyond reproach or forgiveness. Horace still deserved a punishment, but not death or a maiming.

“I forgive him.” Slink knelt down and offered her right arm to the man, he took it, and she pulled him and smacked him across the face with her robotic left claw, and let him fall back against the bar counter, knocking him unconscious “but not without a punishment to fit his crimes.”

“Explain your punishment.” said the Skeleton, her arms still crossed.

“He offered a hand to help me up, and with the other hand he made me a slave again. He needed to learn how that felt.” She turned to the Skeleton and watched her nod slowly in approval.

“Excellent, you’ve passed the first test of many I will give you.” The Skeleton uncrossed her arms and sat down in a nearby chair “sit, girl, there is much we have to discuss.” Slink once again was sitting opposite the Skeleton, but it felt different this time. She no longer felt like a lowly slave girl serving a patron, she felt like a student talking to her master. They shared a long silence, before Slink opened her mouth to break it.

“Who exactly are you?” She asked, praying that her tone didn’t betray her excitement of the last few hours. The Skeleton seemed to be in deep thought before she spoke again.

“My name is Master Tsau, and I am one of the last practitioners of the true way of the sword. At least, one of the last original masters,” said the Skeleton, her voice tinged with sadness as she reflected on her long past “after the fall of the Second Empire, a lot of my people hid away for centuries as the Okranites grew in power and started their campaigns against us. I am ashamed to say that I too hid away in the Deadlands, letting myself slumber for seven score and ten years before I awoke and came to a realization: the true way of the sword was being lost to time, and it became my purpose to find one pupil before I die.” The Skeleton spoke with a great sorrow and weight to her words, and Slink wondered what it felt like to be a member of a dying breed. She had heard stories of when the Skeletons used to rule the world, and now there were an ever-vanishing handful of them that were still coherent.  
“And you think that I would make a good pupil?”

“Do you?” replied the Skeleton, her eyeless gaze fixed on Slink’s face, watching for any twitch that would betray her feelings. Slink felt the tug in the pit of her stomach again, the one that just a few hours earlier had told her to take up the Skeleton’s sword. This was the opportunity that legends were built around, but could Slink handle the burden? Could she help this Skeleton revive a dying art? She would never know unless she took the initial leap forward.

“Yes, I do.” said Slink, and for the first time since she had escaped slavery, she believed the words leaving her mouth.

“Then stand, and kneel in front of me.” The Skeleton stood and drew her katana as she said this, assuming an almost regal pose, and Slink could almost picture what she looked like in her prime as she knelt before the Skeleton. “Close your eyes, hands on your knees, trust in me.” Slink complied, and she felt the cold edge of Tsau’s katana touch her scalp. “Do you, Slink, renounce your old name and life in order to become a true master of the sword?”

“Yes, I do.” Tsau moved her blade from the-girl-that-was-Slink’s scalp to her neck.

“Do you promise to follow the teachings of your master, and follow the path of the Swordslinger?”

“Yes, I do.” replied the girl, and Tsau moved her blade down to the girls chest.

“Do you promise to never kill out of anger, and to only draw your sword as a last resort?”

“Yes, I do.” Tsau brought the blade back up, and rested it against the girls right hand.

“Do you accept the title of Novice, and the position of being my equal and right-hand in combat, and all of the responsibilities therein?”

“Yes, I do.” Tsau sheathed her katana.

“Then rise, and be named,” said Tsau, and the-girl-who-was-Slink stood slowly and felt the old Skeleton’s hand on the top of her head. “You have endured hardships, and paid a price of flesh for your freedom. You will no longer be called Slink, your name is now Hester, after the ancient queen who sacrificed for her people. Do you accept this name?”

“Yes, I do.” said Hester, the new name echoing in her head.

“Open your eyes, Hester, and take the first step of your new path.” Tsau said with finality, and she stepped back as Hester opened her eyes and took a single step forward. She felt like a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders, and she felt herself standing taller, her feet planted solidly on the ground as if they were rooted there. She was no longer the scared, hungry girl that had staggered into this bar half-dead all those months ago. She was Hester, a swordslinger, and she was ready to begin her training.

\--

“Ready!” shouted Master Tsau, and Hester settled into the ready stance--feet perpendicular, knees bent, shoulders back--and waited for her Master’s next command, adjusting the grip on her sword. She had been training for a hair over eight months now, it officially started when they got to a city called Catun that was in a dry plains filled with the bones of long dead creatures, some of them so large that they stretched into the sky like the fingers of God. “One!” counted her master, and Hester took a deep breath in and out. Master Tsau had picked Catun because of the blacksmith in town, they offered decent weapons for low prices, and no one in the United Cities cared about a Skeleton and a former slave walking around as long as the right hands were greased. “Two!” barked the Skeleton, and Hester narrowed her eyes. “Three! Begin!” With the command from her master, Hester struck the target in front of her, practicing a flurry of blows with speed and precision, as she did this, Tsau paced back and forth to her right, calling out things that were wrong with Hester’s form. She had a natural talent for the sword, picking up lessons easily, but Tsau kept repeating that talent didn’t translate to skill. “Skill takes time to hone,” her master often said during any number of lessons, “like the edge of a sword it needs to be sharpened and maintained to be worth anything. A poor edge makes--” a pounding on the door interrupted Hester’s train of thought, and she heard a voice she thought she wouldn’t hear again.

“Slink!” shouted the Barman, and Hester winced at her old name tasting bile. She looked to her master for guidance, and Tsau didn’t make any indication that she heard anything.

“Why did you stop the drill, did I tell you to?” said Tsau, who seemed to not hear the man pounding on their door.

“It’s Horace, he’s--” Tsau cut her off with a wave of her hand

“Lord Phoenix himself could be out there, with 200 Paladins, and I would have you keep training. Start from the beginning, child.” said Tsau definitively. Hester set her face like stone and turned towards the practice target, and started the drill again, trying to drown out the sound of the Barman with her own thoughts.

“Slink you thief! I’m here for my arm back, and another one besides for laying a hand on me! Slink!” The pounding on the door grew louder, and Hester felt something hot and mean rise from her belly, she turned to face the door and stepped off the training mat.

“You stopped again, we are not done yet,” said her master calmly, her arms crossed as she leaned against a pillar

“I’m gonna go out there and--”

“And what? Commit murder in the center of town? He is no threat to us, child,” and as Tsau spoke, the door to the dojo swung open. Horace and four other men walked in, he had a scar on his face from where Hester had struck him and he wore an eyepatch over the opposite eye. The other men around him looked like hired muscle, whatever dregs he could filter out of the Swamp den he frequented no doubt. Tsau didn’t even turn to look at them “gentlemen, we are currently in the middle of--”

“Shut up, bolter, I’m not here for you,” said Horace as he trudged into the dojo, a heavy and cruel looking cleaver in his hand, “I’m here for a whelp named Slink.” said the man, and his eyes scanned the room and settled on Hester. He looked confused.

“Sir, there is nobody here by that name.” said Tsau, her voice firm and unwavering “please leave before I call the guard,”

“They won’t come, we paid ‘em off good and proper din’t we ‘Orace?” said one of the mercenaries, he chewed his words and spat them out like bad meat. Horace kept staring at Hester, his eyes travelling from her face, to the brand on her neck, down the length of her prosthetic arm, and then to the sword handle peeking from over her shoulder. He set his jaw and shoved past Master Tsau as he made his way over to Hester.

“Actually, the bint I’m looking for looks a damn sight like you. Tall, dark hair, one arm, former Rebirth slave. She was a skinny thing though, no meat on her to speak of, but you?” Horace eyed her body, which was now toned after months of training giving her visible muscle definition. “You couldn’t be her, she didn’t have a spec of fight in her,” Hester glared at the man, and took a deep breath to clear her mind of all thoughts. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Like my master said, sir, there’s no one here by that name.” She immediately regretted speaking when she saw the expression on Horace’s face turn hard and angry, he raised the cleaver.

“We found her boys, GET HER!” he shouted, and raised his cleaver to strike and swung wildly, the jagged edge of the weapon biting into the training dummy and he wrenched it free as Hester assumed a fighting stance. She moved to strike, but with surprising speed the man dodged out of the way before swinging his cleaver again, she raised her sword to block but it was like she wasn’t there as the edge of the weapon tore through her stomach, leaving a zig-zagged wound. She gritted her teeth and swung her sword again, and landed a glancing blow on his leg, leaving a small cut on his inner thigh that started bleeding profusely. She had nicked an artery by mistake, and all she had to do now was not get hit again. She stole a glance over to her master, and saw her taking on the four mercenaries, her body moving with incredible speed as she danced around them, her sword flashing white and crimson with blood. Hester moved to strike and was parried by the Barman, who was grinning wildly, his eyes bloodshot. He swung again, and Hester dodged and took the opportunity to attack, leaving a deep cut in his back, she felt her sword scrape bone and Horace howled in pain. He whirled around, enraged, and swung again, hitting Hester’s robotic left arm and her arm caught between two of the jagged teeth of the blade. Hester wrenched her body, but the cleaver was designed to hook into robotic foes and tear them apart, and Hester screamed in pain as Horace twisted the blade and pulled sharply downwards, tearing her left arm out of the socket, the thin hooks in the limb cap being torn out of her and leaving a bloodied gash in her shoulder. Blinded with pain she swung her sword again and felt it connect with something before it wouldn’t move any further. Without thinking she pulled the weapon back and swung again, feeling it wedge into something that she couldn’t wrench it free from. She kept pulling with her one arm, screaming like a feral dog before she felt the sword break, and the cool robotic hand of her master on her right shoulder.

“It’s over, child, relax, remember your breathing.” The cool voice of Master Tsau penetrated the walls of pain that surrounded her mind, and she took a deep breath and focused on her body. She heard gurgling, and the sound of liquid hitting the floor. She opened her eyes, and saw Horace leaning against the wall with one hand around his neck, the other around the jagged piece of sword blade sticking out of it, blood poured from the wound as he struggled, gasping for breath before he stopped moving. Hester couldn’t turn away from the grim sight before her, not being able to fathom that she had just killed someone. She vomited and fell to her knees, clutching the wound in her stomach. “Come upstairs, girl, let’s get you patched up.” and Hester slowly stood and climbed the steps to the second floor of the dojo where she slept and took her meals. She barely flinched as Tsau cleaned and stitched her wounds shut before wrapping gauze around them.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Hester after the skeleton had finished patching her up.

“Well now, you’re going to rest until that wound is healed. I’m going to get the guards and see if I can’t get any help cleaning downstairs.” Tsau seemed unbothered by the violent events of the day “after that, we’re going to need to talk about what’s next for us. Sleep, girl, you’ll need it.” After Tsau finished speaking, she turned and left the room. Hester fell asleep surprisingly quickly, and dreamed of nothing.

\--

Hester sat outside the clothing shop as her master haggled inside, it had been two days since she had killed Horace, and they were finally going to leave Catun and head North to the Deadlands where she would complete her training. She recalled the conversation with her master the previous day.

“Well, girl, we’re in the clear.” Her master had said, after returning from the Catun police station, Hester didn’t question further, instead she asked

“What’s next, master?”

“Catun isn’t as safe as I thought it was going to be, so we’re going to head North into the Deadlands. We’re going to need some things first for you.”

“Like what?” Hester hadn’t heard of the Deadlands, but with a name like that it couldn’t be any safer than Catun

“Your uniform, and some additions that will make our passage to my dojo easier for you.” Tsau had said. Hester snapped out of her memories when she heard the clanking footsteps of her master come out of the shop, in one hand she was carrying a bundle of clothing wrapped in twine for easier carrying, in the other a pair of kneehigh leather boots and a wide brimmed straw hat. “Find someplace to change into these, and buy some ration packs from the bar.” said her master, handing her the bundle of clothes and placing the straw hat on her head. 

“Thank you, master.” said Hester, before dutifully walking into the bar. The bartender, a stocky Scorchlander woman, nodded at Hester when she walked in.

“Welcome to the Wandering Eye, traveler. Need a room or just a seat?” Hester was shocked at how polite the woman was being, before she remembered that she didn’t look like an escaped slave anymore.

“A room, but only so I can have some privacy while I change, would that be okay?” asked Hester, fully expecting to need to pay a fee for it, she watched the woman contemplate her question for a second before she shrugged her shoulders.

“Sure, take the small one under the stairs,” said the woman, pointing to a small door beneath the staircase leading to the bar’s second floor “there’s a mirror in there if you need it, be quick though.”

“Thank you.” replied Hester, and quickly walked into the room and turned on the light. She unfolded the clothes that Tsau had given her, first was a pair of baggy cloth pants that secured around her waist with a leather belt, second was a long black leather coat that stopped at her mid calves and had buttons down to just above the belt of the pants, the coat came with three belts that wrapped under her breasts, across her waist, and around her hips the belts had adjustable fasteners for sword scabbards, and a scarf that wrapped around her neck. A bundle of wrappings for her arms and legs remained, in addition to a lightly armored bracer that went up to her elbow. She wrapped her legs and feet up, and then tried wrapping her right arm. She sighed heavily when she remembered that she only had a right arm, and stepped out of the small room that the bartender had let her use.

“Welcome back! I was just about to come in there and check on you,” said the bartender, eyeing Hester with a look that she knew all too well. She tried to look like she didn’t notice, “do you need anything else?” Hester swallowed her pride before holding up the arm wraps and the bracer.

“Can you wrap my arm for me? I tried to do it myself but I--” the bartender cut her off.

“Of course sweetie, lemme just get out from behind here.” the bartender stepped out from her counter and swaggered over to Hester, taking the cloth and wrapping it around her hand before going up the girl's arm, stopping just above her elbow. Hester tried not to notice the woman’s warm breath, or her nimble fingers as they brushed against the skin of Hester’s arm. The woman then slid the armored bracer over Hester’s wrist, and tightened the leather straps until she was satisfied that the armor wouldn’t slide off “is there anything else you need?” asked the woman, and Hester tried to not notice that their hips were touching.

“Ration packs!” blurted out Hester, trying desperately to not seem flustered, she realized that she had shouted in the woman’s ear. “Sorry, I need some ration packs for the road, maybe five?” the bartender smiled and went back behind the counter and pulled out six of the tightly wrapped packs and placed them on the smooth wooden surface of the bar.

“Yes ma’am, that’ll be seven-hundred-and-fifty cats.” said the bartender, and Hester didn’t think about the fact that amount was barely enough to cover the cost of one of the packs as she counted out the coin and left it on the counter.

“Thank you, miss!” said Hester, and she walked as fast as she could out of the bar and back to her master, who sat waiting on a bench.

“Are you alright, girl? You look sunburned, or--wait, did you go into the Wandering Eye?” asked Tsau, even though she was incapable of expressing emotions facially, Hester knew that she had a shit-eating grin

“Yes, master Tsau.”

“And the bartender, scorchlander woman? Curvy? Well-built?” Hester didn’t respond to this, and, although her master didn’t show it, Tsau was laughing. Hester tried to change the subject

“The boots, master?” said the one-armed girl, and Tsau patted the bench next to her. Hester sat, and her master got off the bench and kneeled at her feet. Pulling off the girls sandals and pushing the boots onto her feet before lacing them up and checking that they were secure.

“How do they feel? Not too tight or loose?”

“They’re perfect, master, thank you.”

“Right, stand up then, we have a long walk ahead of us.” said Tsau, and the pair walked out of Catun for the first time in eight months, heading north, towards Tsau’s old home.

\--

The Bounty Hunter crested the hill, gently pulling on the reigns of his mount to stop it before he climbed off the saddle and fell into a crouch before lying prone on the cold sand. He freed his spyglass from its holster on his right hip and brought to his eye, peering across the vast expanse of cold desert at a campfire that shone like a star in a sea of darkness. A smile tugged itself across his scarred face, and he stood slowly, the hydraulics in his left leg protesting. He turned to his mount, an old riding goat that had been his companion for years, and pulled a heavy crossbow from her saddle, followed by a sword with a wicked edge. He set off on foot, tying the old goat to a rare tree so she could graze while he did his work.

The walk to the fire was short, nearly an hour that passed quickly while he went through strategies in his head of how to deal with his quarry. It was a small group of four, one slave and the three people that had helped them. The Bounty Hunter was instructed to bring the slave, a woman with one arm, back alive. The other three were his choice. As he approached the camp he took the heavy crossbow off his shoulder and aimed down the scope at his quarry. He found the woman easily, her dark hair was growing back but not fast enough to hide the brand on her neck, the man next to her was a broad shouldered man with a mop of blonde hair and a heavy cleaver resting on his thighs. The she-slave leaned into his shoulder with a smile at something he had said, and the man gently patted her hand with one of his large ones. The Bounty Hunter fingered the trigger of his crossbow, and squeezed, watching as a three inch long bolt sprouted from the blonde man’s head before he slumped forward into the fire. The two other anti-slavers rose, one of them shouting at the woman to take cover before another bolt from the Hunters bow caught him in the chest, causing him to stagger.

“Stupid, didn’t take the time to aim.” muttered the Hunter, as he loaded another bolt into his crossbow. He prayed that the other two fighters hadn’t figured out where the shots were coming from as he sighted in his next shot and rested his finger on the trigger, he emptied his lungs and--

“Over there! He’s close!” The Hunter fired prematurely and the bolt went wide, sailing off into the night. He rose to his feet and loaded another shot and took aim at the wounded man and fired, the bolt caught him in the neck and he fell to the ground choking on his own blood. The final warrior drew her weapon and began running toward the Hunter, and he quickly slung his crossbow over his shoulder and drew his sword. Taking a defense stance he ducked under the woman's first swing and struck at her exposed leg, she parried and countered with a quick slash at his throat before feinting and earning a quick scratch across the Hunters leather armor. He swung low in response, cutting a red line from her hip to her mid belly. He stepped in then, kicked at her knee to throw her off before punching her, hard, in the nose. She fell to the ground, stunned, as blood gushed out of her broken nose, he raised his sword to deliver the final blow, she raised a hand over her face.

“Please, don’t!” said the woman, blood staining her teeth as she grimaced in pain “you can take her! You want the slave-girl, right? You can have her, just don’t ki--” her words were stopped by the Bounty Hunter burying his sword in the crown of her head, he calmly pulled it free and turned to the horrified she-slave. He cleaned his sword and sheathed it before calmly walking towards the scared girl, pulling a pair of shackles from his belt. She looked from the burning corpse of the blonde man, to the woman who spent her last moments betraying her, over to the man still clutching his throat in agony. Her brow furrowed and her eyes burned with anger, she charged the hunter with all of the rage of the desperate, a dagger she had hidden glinting meanly in the firelight as she screamed at the man but her efforts were in vain, the Hunter sidestepped the woman and tripped her with his leg, sending her sprawling across the ground. He knelt on her chest as he shackled her, shackling her one arm tightly to the belt she wore. He whistled sharply, and turned to the three corpses and pulled a knife out of his boot. He cut the ears off two of them, and a finger off the smoldering corpse of the blonde man, as he finished his work he heard his old riding goat bray as she approached the massacre. Smiling at her, he sheathed his boot-knife and effortlessly placed the she-slave across the old goats back, and led her off into the night.

He met with the man who contracted him, a former High Overseer of the Holy Nation's largest prison camp, and presented the she-slave to him. Her eyes shined with hatred as she coldly stared down her former master who...didn’t seem to care.

“This one isn’t her.” said the sneering, bald old man as he looked the one-armed girl up and down slowly. “Fine work though, I know someone who's looking for a girl just like her, he prefers two arms but I can certainly convince him to take this one at a reduced price.” He looked pointedly at the Hunter “which means reduced pay, show me the trophies.” sneered the old man, and the Hunter pulled the leather pouch and emptied it onto a table in the middle of the room. Two pristine human ears and a charred finger. The Hunter spoke before the bald man could.

“Fire.” came the throaty bass of the Hunter, and the bald man nodded solemnly, his sneer turning into the facsimile of happiness.

“Good, the fire of Okran judged him for his sin of taking what wasn’t his. Double pay for the finger, and any others that burn we can talk about.” The bald man counted out two thousand cats, plus five hundred for the trophies. “Your pay, boy, now leave my sight you wretched half-man before I regret stooping to your level.” The Hunter nodded solemnly and left the building, stepping out into the bustling city of Stack. He turned and became one with the crowd, off to chase more one-armed slave girls.

\--

Thunder cracked and golden lightning fractured the spilled ink sky of the Deadlands, Hester prayed that the clothes she wore were enough to counter the burning rain that fell from the sky. She followed the broad silhouette of Tsau to a pair of towering pillars of flame that beckoned them forward, and she felt nearly comforted when they crossed their threshold and into Black Desert City. She followed Tsau through the brightly lit streets of the slumbering city, and into Tsau’s old home. A circular building at the end of the main street, an old worn sign creaked over the door, it was a rusted depiction of two crossed swords over a coiled snake. As soon as Hester entered the building she pulled the mask off her face and breathed cool, clean, air and looked around as old electric lights flickered to life. Interior walls separated four rooms from the rest of the space, and Tsau turned to Hester and spoke for the first time in days to her young student.

“Welcome to the Black Desert City Dojo, pick a room and get some rest. Tomorrow is to be an important day for you, girl.” Tsau turned and walked up the steps, a heaviness bore across the old Skeleton's shoulders and Hester was tempted to speak out, ask her a question. Instead she picked a room far from the door, and fell into a dreamless sleep as soon as her body hit the straw mattress.


	2. Fragments

Hester woke with her mind buzzing with questions, and they continued to buzz as she stretched. Before she left her new room in the dojo she went through the exercises that Master Tsau had taught her in Catun, a slow, methodical recreation of her sword forms. As she moved from one position to the next the buzzing in her mind slowed, and she let thoughts pass through her conscious mind without judgement. When she finished the exercise she put on a pair of baggy pants and a loose-fit tunic and slid the door to her bedroom open, where she found herself face-to-face with Tsau.

“Good morning, girl,” said her master, who was holding a small tray of food, “today is important for you, come into the common room once you’ve finished eating.” And Tsau turned and walked down the hallway. Hester set the plate down and knelt beside it, after saying a quick prayer of habit she pulled the cover off of what looked like gohan and ate quickly, not letting herself taste the food or think about what Tsau had said. Her Master was always straight with her, in her strange way, and Hester figured that her questions about the old warrior would be answered in their time. She dropped the tray and dirty dishes into a sink and stepped into the common room, and sat across from Tsau in a high-backed chair.

“You said today was important, Master?” asked Hester, her tone betrayed her face. She was excited, she was in a place that few non-skeletons had even heard of much less been to.

“Yes, Hester, today you’re being fitted for two very important things. A pair of swords like mine, and an arm to wield them. You have earned the right to call yourself an Acolyte, and the arm is long overdue,” Tsau paused for a minute, appearing to be in deep contemplation, while Hester could barely contain her excitement. She was getting a new arm, a proper arm, made by a master of the old tech, she took a moment to bow her head in reverence.

“Thank you, Master, I accept this honor and--”  
“Please, enough of that, you’re a bright one, Hester. And it’s time we got out of the Dojo and started training you proper, there’s only so much that fighting dummies can teach you.” Tsau stood and walked to where Hester had hung her gear the night before, and beckoned the girl over. Hester dutifully stood, and let her master help her dress for the last time.

\--

Hester tried not to flinch as the skeleton doctor's fingers poked and prodded at her left stump, his cold fingers running over her bare shoulder and peaking at the sutures that Tsau had put in place nearly four weeks ago. The doctor hadn’t said anything since Hester walked in, and she was beginning to wonder if he would say anything at all. He stopped poking at her stump and turned to a tall cabinet, he pulled out a small tool box and a long black case. 

“Have you had a prosthetic before, miss?” asked the Doctor, his voice was scratchy and popped with static.

“Yes, a cheap one that my mast-- employer bought off a Hiver.” Hester was choosing her words carefully, she didn’t know how the skeletons would react to anything that she said. She liked the old things, but she could never get a proper read on what they were thinking “I know how to care and do routine maintenance if that’s what you mean,”

“Well, maintenance for what you’re going to be getting is a mite different I’m afraid,” the doctor said as he opened the black case and pulled out a grey metallic arm, it looked well made and was of a higher quality than anything she had ever seen. She turned her stump toward the doctor and let him fit the limb cap over it, she felt her stump tingle as hundreds of little connections between her shoulder and the prosthetic started forming, and with a final push the arm was connected. Hester gingerly moved her new arm, slowly extending it and curling the fingers, she made a fist and was surprised that she could sort of feel how tight she was making it. As she moved the arm around experimentally she could feel her body adjusting to the new piece of her anatomy, it was like a part of her was waking up and she felt tears well up in her eyes. “Good, your body is adjusting to it perfectly,” the skeleton doctor said, trying not to notice the girls crying “remember to keep the joints lubricated, especially the fingers, this might be a good quality arm but it still needs routine maintenance to prevent ja-- miss? Are you okay?” the skeleton doctor had decided to notice the girl in front of him was crying.

“Yes, thank you, this is just…” Hester trailed off, trying to search for the right words to convey the mix of emotions she was feeling at that moment. When she felt her new arm, truly  _ felt _ it, it was like a piece of her that was buried long ago was finally unearthed. She was seeing the world with a new clarity that hadn’t been known to her for some time, she realized in that moment that in her heart she was still Slink, the one-armed slave from Rebirth. Now though? She felt invigorated, like she could tackle problems head on, she was Hester now, truly.

“I understand, adjusting to the new limb can be emotionally taxing, I’m going to leave you so you can collect yourself and get used to the new arm. Farewell, and safe journeys,” said the doctor, before turning and leaving the work room. Hester took another moment to herself, feeling out the new nerve connections in her shoulder, ensuring that she could move every joint freely and easily. She then stood, and settled into the guard stance and began going through her sword forms. She felt like water in a stream as she moved, her new arm matching the moves perfectly and with more finesse than she was used to, with one more single step she was finished. She got dressed, doing up the buttons on her coat and wrapping her right arm by herself for the first time in a month.

\--

Tsau felt a coil of stress in her processors at the prospect of the upcoming blade fitting, the Scraphouse Smiths had been the Keepers of the Blades for centuries now but it had been centuries since a blade fitting had taken place. She took a moment to steady herself before entering the old warehouse, and was surprised to see Dack still at the door.

“Tsau Nikuya, it’s been a while.” creaked the old Skeleton, half of his face was blackened and the other half was severely dented “to what do we owe the honor?”

“A fitting, Dack, I’ve found a new pupil.” Tsau watched with satisfaction as Dack seemed to be at a loss for words. She walked past him and into the shop proper, and raised her left hand in a salute to Quin, which the old blacksmith returned with a small bow.

“Tsau Nikuya! What a welcome surprise, last I heard you were out in the desert somewhere,” the old smith's fingers never stopped fiddling as he talked to Tsau, he was forming a ball out of clay before flattening it and starting the process over again.

“Quin, do you still Keep?”

“I do, down to my bones Master Tsau.” his fingers stopped fiddling, and his posture loosened as he gave the answer to a question he had waited to hear for six hundred years

“Good, there is to be a fitting today, I have chosen a new student, a human who felt the Call the moment she saw my blades. I’ve been training her for the past year, I think I’ve finally found my h--” Tsau turned her head as the sound of footsteps echoed up into the warehouse where the Skeleton Smiths lived, and she watched as her pupil strode confidently to her side. Tsau cast a glance at Hester’s arm, her encyclopedic brain whirring as she analyzed it. Hester looked up at her master, smiling genuinely for the first time in a long time. 

“This is the meatb-- student you told us about?” asked Quin, his face was a far sight more dinged up than Tsau’s but not nearly as beaten up as the skeleton at the door that called himself Dack, who had fixed Hester with an eyeless gaze that seemed to follow her everywhere inside the shop.

“Yes this is her, we’re in the market for a set of Blades. Do you still have the schematics for them?” Hester stood slightly behind Tsau as the old skeleton talked with the shopkeep, and she looked around the warehouse they were standing in. Everywhere she looked there were boxes, some of them were open and displayed old textbooks, spheres of metal the size of her head, and more weapons than she had ever seen in her life. She found herself drawn to a set that were on display, a matched pair of sabres that shone silver in the light. She felt a presence behind her and turned to see Quin standing there.

“Those are desert sabres, made for a group of people who would eventually become the United Cities. But they are not why you’re here, are they?”   
“No, Master Quin,” said Hester, and the old swordsmith laughed at that.

“There are no Masters here, Acolyte, but you’re here to be fitted for a set of blades, and I will need you to follow me.” He turned after that, and started walking towards the back of the workshop. Hester followed behind, and looked to Master Tsau who nodded encouragingly. Quin led her into a separate part of the warehouse, a room that was filled with display cases of old katanas, nodachis, wakizashis, and more weapons that Hester didn’t have a name for. Quin motioned for her to sit on a cushioned bench as he opened a chest of drawers and started pulling out measuring devices.

“What are you going to be measuring me for?”

“I’m glad you asked,” said the swordsmith “the weapons you will receive today will be matched to fit you specifically. Every person is different, and their tools much match them. When you handled Tsau’s swords, I imagine that it was awkward for you. Yes?” Hester nodded, and the skeleton continued “that is because they were her tools, they were made for her and used by her for centuries. Those tools in her hands became tied to her hands, the tsuka-maki weathered to fit her fingers. Like your arm, your sword should be a natural extension of yourself, a way of interacting with the world that you can use as naturally as you move an arm or take a step,” as he spoke the skeleton measured Hester from crown to toe, felt her hands, and ran his fingers over her knuckles and palms “the world has been unkind to you, Tsau told me as much, but as you walk this Path I hope that you begin to heal. You walk with a legend, and those in her wake tend to become legends themselves.” Quin coiled up the measuring tape and opened one of the display cases, pulling out a nodachi and it’s sister katana. He unsheathed the nodachi and inspected it, before handing it to Hester. “Try this, I believe she will fit you well.” Hester took the weapon in her hands, and unsheathed it, wrapping both hands around the grip she settled into a ready stance and did a quick form. The weapon felt unfamiliar in her hands, and her first instinct was to sheathe it and hand it back to Quin, she fought the instinct before she saw the swordsmith shake his head and she handed the blade back to him. “This process takes time, Acolyte, but we have plenty of that here.”

\--

After two hours of trying out weapons, getting a feel for their weight and balance, checking the edges and even striking at dummies with some, Hester finally found it. They were simple weapons, the sheathes were unadorned lacquered wood, and the tsukamaki was wrapped around a simple brass Menuki that resembled the sigil of Tsau’s dojo. When Hester took the nodachi in her hand it was as if the sword became one with her arms, she went through her sword forms with ease and she felt as the weapon became attuned to her body. As she practiced strikes, she suddenly felt her blade collide with something and she saw Quin holding a wooden practice weapon. She set her face and settled her stance, waiting for the old swordsmith to make his move. Like a coiled snake he struck, and with ease she parried and countered with a swing to his leg that he effortlessly blocked. The two of them traded strikes and blocks, counters and dodges, steel on hardwood before Quin tapped his chest three times and dropped the practice weapon. Hester felt herself smiling, and she sheathed her new weapon and bowed to Quin, he nodded his head in response.

“Go out now, and meet with Tsau. Dack has probably driven her crazy by now,” said Quin as he began tidying the space “she’ll want to fasten those to you, it’s tradition.”

“Thank you, Quin,” said Hester, before turning and walking back into the main warehouse where she found Tsau leaning against a wall, Hester knelt before her master and held up her two new blades “Master Tsau,” upon hearing her name, Tsau stirred and looked down at her young pupil knelt before her, holding out the Blades of her profession. A deep sadness swirled inside the old skeleton, mixed with pride, she bent over and took the blades from her student.

“Acolyte Hester, do you accept these tools as your own, and promise to keep them as you would keep yourself?”  
“Yes, I do.”  
“Do you swear to live true by them, and stick to the teachings of the Path?”  
“Yes, I do.”

“Then rise, Journeyman Hester, it is time we began walking it.” Tsau motioned for the woman to stand, and she fastened the katana to Hester’s left hip and the nodachi across her back. The pair then turned, and walked out of the warehouse and into the rest of their lives.

\--

Catun, this is where the trail started heating up again. The Hunter hitched his old goat outside the police station and stepped inside, a bored looking woman was sitting at the desk and fiddling with a pen, the Hunter cleared his throat, and the woman looked up at him.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman, her voice was affected with the tone of someone who’s shift was almost up.

“I’m a Bounty Hunter, after an escaped slave. Dark haired girl, one arm, she’s branded if that helps.” he wasn’t one to mince words, it took every fiber of strength to not start screaming as the sounds of the city came from behind him and the sounds of a busy office emanated from in front. He focused his breathing, and tried to relax himself.

“Sir you’re going to have to direct questions like that to the police chief, he has an office on the second floor. I can send your name up and see if he can see you. What is your name?”  
“My what?”  
“Your name, sir, who is gonna be talking to the Chief?” said the woman, who started tapping her nails on the desk. The sound was small, but it was nearly enough to set off the Hunter. He focused his breathing again. One, two, three, four…

“Tadashi,” he managed to say, and the woman nodded before flagging down a harried looking man in dark clothes. Tadashi stepped to the side and counted out his breathing, and nearly missed the woman saying he could go up to see the Chief. He nodded curtly, and quickly made his way to the second floor, where he found a man wearing studded leather armor sitting at a desk and writing out something on a piece of parchment. He looked up when Tadashi entered and jerked his head toward a closed door behind him, Tadashi stepped through and came face-to-face with a severe looking man with a scarred up face. He fixed Tadashi with a glare, and he noticed that the Chief only had one real eye, the other was made of glass and was pure black.

“So, you’re the one that Kya sent up? Feh, have a seat, I’ve got time today.” Tadashi remained standing.

“I’m a...bounty hunter. Searching for an escaped slave, one arm, dark hair. Anyone fitting that description lately?”  
“That depends, slaver, how much is this information worth to you?” Tadashi sighed, and produced a small string of cats and plopped it on the table “Hm, yeah, I remember someone like that. Caused a big ruckus over at that circular building, left in a hurry after that. Something about the one-armed girl stealing money from an innkeeper, word is that they went North towards the deadlands. You’re hunting dangerous game, boy, I hope you know that.”

“Thank you for your time,” said Tadashi and he turned to walk out of the office.

“Wait. Before you leave, that Skeleton and the girl...they killed five men who were also hunting her. I mean it, this is a dangerous bounty.” said the Chief, but Tadashi was already out the door and headed for the exit, the words of the Chief bouncing off of him.

\--

Hester had never been to a city like Brink before. Unfamiliar smells filled her nose and the sounds of a wakeful marketplace were around every corner, it seemed that wherever she looked there was something new to see, and so many  _ people _ . She was to chase a lead on jobs in the city for people like her and Tsau, and she felt a hot lump of excitement deep in her gut at the prospect of actually putting her skills to the test against the real world. She saw a bar ahead, a place that fit Tsau’s criteria for a spot to gather information: not fancy but not seedy either, a place where travelers would go. The Spotted Dog fit that criteria to a T, and Hester stepped inside the open doors to a large common room filled with all sorts of people. Hester took an empty seat at the bar, and a Hiver behind the counter asked if she wanted anything.

“A drop of sake, and information,” and she placed seven cats on the counter, two for the drink, five for the info. The Hiver, a tall stick-limbed creature, poured her drink and placed it in front of her.

“What sort of information, girl?” asked the Hiver, taking the money and stuffing it in a pocket of the thick leather apron he wore. Hester had never seen a Hiver outside of the slave barracks at Rebirth, and seeing one living free and happy made her truly realize how huge the world was.

“Any contracts out? I’m looking to get a spot of hunting in before it’s out of season,” said Hester, and the Hiver thought for a moment before nodding and producing a sheet of parchment with a sketch of a rather scarred Shek on it. 

“Red-Eyed Beckett, runs a small-time band of Reavers a few clicks south of here. Bounty is 5,000 alive, and half of that if he’s croaked.” the Hiver was called to the other side of the bar and left the poster with Hester, she folded it neatly and pocketed it before turning and leaving the bar. She found Tsau outside the bar, leaning against a wall.

“That was well done, girl,” said the old Skeleton “you have been paying attention after all,” the ghost of a smile played on Tsau’s voice, and Hester smirked back and handed the poster to Tsau who read over the bounty and looked up at her pupil “you are forgetting a step, girl,” and Hester’s smile faded as she remembered the part she hated about bounty hunting: talking to the cops.

\--

“Red-Eyed Beckett, ay? Are you sure you’re up for him girlie?” asked the Officer at the front desk, and Hester tried not to let his words provoke her. She was a swordslinger now and she’d be damned if she let this small-minded twit get to her. She fixed the officer with her gaze before speaking, making sure he knew that she wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, I’m up for him,” she said, putting on an air like she wasn’t on her third-ever bounty hunt “how many men does he run with?”

“Four plus himself, big enough to extort most caravans but small enough to move fast,” the officer unrolled a map of the region and gestured to an area about twenty kilometers South of town, a canyon perfect for ambushing caravans “they tend to strike here, I suspect that they camp near this location but we can’t pin it down. But hey, maybe a lonesome girlie with a fancy sword can take him down.” the officer’s voice was tinged with laughter that caught in his throat when he saw Hester’s eyes flash with anger. She stood and thanked the officer, before confidently striding out of the station with her head held high, trying to seem calm and collected. The police station was right next to the main gate, and Hester met Tsau there, relaying the information she had gathered from the officer to the Skeleton. Tsau nodded thoughtfully, and turned to the gate. Master and Pupil walked out of Brink, and failed to notice the one-legged Hunter watching them.

\--

Hester took the lead and followed the road south of town, following the road of packed sand before veering off and finding themselves on the left side of a canyon.

“We’re ahead of schedule,” said Hester, checking the position of the sun “it’s a few hours before nightfall, should we approach now or wait for dusk like we planned?” Tsau leaned against a rock and stroked her chin for a moment, Hester thought she could hear the gears in her masters head turning.

“If the information was right, their camp is just over the next outcropping. The sun will not be in our favor if we strike now, not to mention the--” Tsau’s head turned back towards Brink and she ducked down just moments before a crossbow bolt sailed over her head and ricocheted off a rock. Hester tried to see where the first bolt came from, when a second bolt whistled through the air and struck her left shoulder, the missile lodging itself in the mechanism of her prosthetic, she slid into cover behind her master.

“North-northeast, only one shooter,” said the one-armed woman as she pulled the arrow from her arm, rotating it slowly to ensure that it would function in the coming fight. She listened closely, praying that the wind would carry the telltale  _ thunk _ of a crossbow firing to her position, and her prayers were answered a second later as a third bolt sailed over them, and a voice howled in pain from the south. Followed by the thundering roar of a Shek giving orders. 

“Lars, cover Hecate while she tends to Jinwei. The rest of you, spread out and keep low!” another bolt sailed through the air and sparked off the top of the rock that Master and Pupil were crouched behind.

“Master, what do we do?” asked Hester, trying to keep her voice from shaking. They were in a situation that no one would want to find themselves in, between two parties of unknown size that were presumed hostile. It sounded like Beckett had more than four men, what had she gotten them into?

“We wait, and we listen.” said the Skeleton, loosening her nodachi in its sheath, Hester mimicked her “with luck our enemies will take care of eachother, failing that, we improvise and we fight our way out. Another crossbow fired, much closer than the first, and was followed by the shrieks of a wounded riding goat. Hester winced as the animal screamed out, and she saw another crossbow boat streak above her and Tsau. Seconds later, a skinny man wearing the garb of a lifelong desert raider fell in front of the hiding swordslingers, a bouquet of metal fletching sprouting from his right eye, he slowly started to rise and Hester saw the tip of the bolt sticking out the right side of his head. Tsau rose quicker, drawing her Nodachi and bringing it down on the man’s neck before he could get a good look at the pair. Before his head hit the ground, a crossbow bolt sprouted out of Tsau’s chest. The Skeleton started to laugh, and she pulled the arrow out and threw it on the ground, she brought her sword up and a second bolt pinged off her sword and clattered against the stones below. She looked to her Pupil, and Hester could feel the joy coming off her master. She rose quickly and took her position at her master’s side. The pair climbed up and over their cover, and Hester immediately saw the source of the bolts, a large man was lowering his crossbow and resting it on the corpse of his fallen riding goat, he drew a large heavy cleaver from his back and held it in two hands. He looked past Hester and Tsau, and Hester quickly heard why.

Very few have heard the war cry of a Shek warrior and lived to tell the tale, as what followed the cry was a charging bull made of scales and steel. Red-Eyed Beckett bellowed past Hester and Tsau, pulling the heavy plank from his back and swinging it powerfully at the crossbowman, who effortlessly dodged the charging monster, swinging his heavy cleaver and sinking it’s blade into one of the thick pads of leather covering the Shek’s shoulders, the Shek immediately wrenched his body and pulled the blade free from the hunters grip, and with a mighty howl swung low at the man’s leg. The sound of metal striking metal echoed as the Shek’s heavy blade glanced off, and for a moment he stood confused. The Hunter used that moment and threw a punch that struck the Shek across the temple, and with his other hand pulled his cleaver free and swung at the shek’s unarmored head. 

“Hest, eyes up!” shouted Tsau, and Hester shook herself away from the duel as three reavers approached them with weapons drawn, one of them swung for Hester who parried the blow and riposted with a quick slash at the man’s midriff which connected, leaving a shallow cut that started to ooze with blood. Hester followed up with a strike to his elbow, making to sever the limb before feinting and angling her strike down towards his knee, feeling the chord that connects the leg bones snap. The man immediately fell forwards and Hester finished him with a quick kick to his nose. She turned and saw Tsau dueling the other two reavers, and she threw the dead man’s weapon at one of them to draw his attention. He turned and swung at Hester, who dodged his blow and grabbed onto the long braid the man wore down his back and pulled hard. He howled in pain and dropped to his knees, before kicking his legs out and tripping the one-armed woman and bringing his weapon, a rather cruel looking spiked cudgel, down on her right arm. Hester felt the bone break and gritted her teeth in pain as she leapt to her feet and punched the man hard in the stomach with her left arm, the metallic fist breaking a rib and knocking the wind out of him. She disarmed him and swung the cudgel at his head hard enough to break his neck. She turned around just in time to see Tsau run her sword through another reavers stomach, the old Skeleton took a split second to check her pupil, and when she saw that her right arm was broken she immediately took a defensive stance in front of her. Hester awkwardly sheathed her nodachi and drew her katana, holding it in her left arm. They both turned their heads at the sound of a shek howling in pain, and they broke their formation to check on the dueling men.

Red-Eyed Beckett was clutching the bloodied stump where his right arm used to be, and the Hunter was standing over him clutching a wound in his stomach. He turned his head briefly to see the two bounty hunters watching him, and he brought his cleaver up and brought it down on the back of the wounded shek’s neck, severing his spinal cord. He pulled the blade free and walked past the two bounty hunters before disappearing over the hill. Hester winced when she heard a woman screaming, followed by silence, and the Hunter came back down the hill, his weapon sheathed. He raised the hand not clutching the wound in his stomach, and Tsau lowered her sword before sheathing it and raising a hand in return. Hester followed suit, struggling to get her katana back in the scabbard that lay on her left hip. She managed it just when the Hunter was within speaking distance.

“I’m sorry for firing on you, sisters, but I did not realize that we hunted the same quarry,” the Hunter spoke in a soft low voice that betrayed his attitude in combat, and his tone was wreathed in an accent that Hester could not place, but Tsau recognized immediately. She placed her left hand across her chest and tapped it twice.

“And I didn’t realize that you were a fellow Hunter, sit brother, we can lick our wounds together. I am Tsuna, and this is Hedwig,” Hester nodded and mimicked her masters salute, tapping her chest twice with her left hand. She watched the Hunter nod and do the same before he winced in pain and fell against the wall behind him.

“I am Tadashi,” said the man, as he first injected a small syringe of painkiller above his wound and started stitching it closed, Hester noticed a wealth of similar scars along the man's stomach, and wondered just who they had fought with. Tsau reached into her bag and pulled out a splint kit to set Heser’s bone, noting that it was a simple fracture that would heal quickly. Hester nursed it, and held it above her heart, and fixed Tadashi’s gaze with her own.

\--

Dangerous game. That’s what the police chief in Catun had called the one-armed girl he was hunting. He had chased rumours of one-armed women halfway across the continent, before he finally found one that matched the description. 

Hecate. A slave-turned-emancipator that ran with a crew that preyed on trade caravans outside of one of the biggest hubs for slave-trading. It was a brazen move, but the wrong arm was missing, and the brand on her neck was from a United Cities camp. He killed her, to tie up the loose end, but this girl in front of him now…

His eyes landed on her missing left arm, on the swords that hung from her back and hip, and finally to her eyes. Her neck was covered by the coat she wore, but the former High Overseer told him that her eyes would be a giveaway if he couldn’t identify the brand. Her eyes were hazel, flecked with gold and green, and they bore a hole straight through his own. The Skeleton was a hiccup, as a rule he never even tried to fight one as the ones encountered in the wastes were skilled combatants, and this one was no exception. He caught glimpses of it fighting, it struck faster than most men could react and killed faster than a blink. He’d have to remember their names, Tsuna and Hedwig. He broke eye contact with the one-armed girl, and tentatively stood up feeling the fresh sutures in his flesh protest.

“Farewell, sisters, I’ve a walk ahead of me now. Stay well on your Paths, and may the roads ahead be clear.”

\--

“And the same to you, brother.” Tsau watched the man leave before she turned to Hester, seeing the wheels turning in her pupil’s head she heard herself ask the question before she even thought of it “is he from Rebirth?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so,” said the one-armed girl, the brand on her neck itched, and she resisted the urge to scratch it “he had a prosthetic leg, the Holy Nation would never let him step foot in Rebirth let alone work there.”

“But he seemed to recognize you, two people don’t share a gaze for that long for no reason. Are you absolutely sure you never saw that man before?” Hester searched her memory, even peering into the five year block of her life that was locked deep in the recesses of her consciousness. She did recognize him, at least the way he spoke, dripping with formality and seeming as if every word was chosen months in advance. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. She took a deep breath in before speaking.

“When I was in Rebirth I used to see men like him every six months or so, wearing the same armor and carrying similar weapons. They brought in escaped slaves and were usually paid for their troubles,” she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her left arm around them as she felt the cold fingers of her past start to grasp at her shoulders. A look from Tsau was enough to steady her breath enough to continue “when I lived in The Hub I kept expecting one of those men to show up and drag me back to the life I tried so hard to escape. He’s a slave hunter.”

“And you’re sure of this?” asked Tsau, who had started building a small fire while Hester was speaking

“As sure as my sword is sharp,” replied Hester, who took a deep steadying breath and slowly rose to her feet and helped her master set camp. Her thoughts kept returning to the man, Tadashi, why was he hunting her after all this time? It had been over a year since she had escaped, and certainly she wasn’t important to the Holy Nation. Her thoughts spiralled around and around, and kept buzzing as she ate her way through a ration pack and rolled out her sleeping bag. Tsau told the girl to not worry about changes in watch, and Hester slowly drifted to sleep.

\--

Slink screamed as the white-hot brand was applied to her neck, and the thin man in front of her grinned wickedly “and now, little blossom, you belong to Okran. May you find His light here in your new home,” his thin fingers cupped her chin and wiped a tear from her cheek and the thin man turned into the thickset Horace, his breath heavy with the smell of grog.

“I shelter you, feed you, clothe you, even give you a new arm and you won’t even give them a shake for me. Hmph, ungrateful brat.” she flinched when he raised his hand, and his drunken stupor broke for a moment and he knelt to her level resting a large hand on her thin shoulders “I’m sorry Des, daddy didn’t mean to scare you, go up to bed now. That’s a good girl…” Slink climbed the stairs to the attic bedroom of the bar, and watched as it transformed into the training room in Catun. She watched as a woman with a broken sword murdered Hector, and turned to face the scared girl before turning into Tadashi holding his cleaver, standing over the broken body of Master Tsau and smiling like a madman.

\--

Hester woke and immediately let out a sigh of relief when she saw Tsau sitting in front of the campfire, the flames reflecting off of her masters photoreceptors, the old Skeleton turned her head towards her pupil and tilted quizzically.

“Troubled dreams? I don’t blame you, your past came back to stare you in the face today. Come, sit with me.” the skeleton patted a patch of earth next to her, and Hester stood and walked around the fire to sit next to her master, without thinking she leaned into the skeleton, and was surprised when she felt her arm around her shoulders. “There will be times when you walk the Path and your old life before you took the Oath will confront you, that is the nature of it. We can never truly escape our pasts, because they have a heavy hand in determining who we are, but to turn and face your past when it inevitably comes back to haunt you, to look at the person you were and know that you have truly changed is a power that few possess and even fewer realize. That is why we take the Oath, and why we walk the Path we walk.” 

“So the nature of the Path isn’t to forget, it’s to attone?”

“Not necessarily to attone, although many use it to seek forgiveness for their sins. Myself included.” The Skeleton said that last part so quietly that Hester wasn’t sure that she even heard it. “The nature of the Path is to improve, to find strength, to become better, and to inspire others to walk a similar road.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 1 of a series that I might continue! Probably!


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